Surrogate Father
by LPphreek
Summary: After Goku dies in the Cell Games, he leaves his two sons without a father. Who will step in and take his place? Series of one-shots. Not chronological.
1. Birth

Birth

"Woman, why would I want to go see that brat?" Vegeta asked angrily, crossing his arms over his chest as he prepared himself for a battle of wills.

Bulma put her hands on her hips, getting into her strongest battle stance. She pointed a finger at the flame-haired saiyan with a scowl on her face as she replied, "Because it's the nice thing to do, you jerk! If you're going to stay here you might as well learn social etiquette. Which includes going to see your friends when they have a new baby!"

Vegeta scoffed and turned away from the blue-haired woman. He couldn't care less about earthling customs, especially when they involved being civil to his rival's harpy of a mate. Turning back to his mate with a sneer, he pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and brushed past her none too gently, nearly knocking her off her feet.

"The last thing I want to see is another spawn of Kakarrot," he hissed as he slammed the gravity room door behind him. A minute later Bulma heard the sound of the gravity simulator and knew she'd lost that round against the stubborn saiyan prince. She set her mouth in a firm line as she determined not to let him get off the hook that easily.

She stomped through the halls of Capsule Corp until she found her mother playing with Trunks, who babbled happily at her goofy faces. "Mama?" he asked, blue eyes looking up at his mother brightly.

Bulma smiled and sat down on the floor next to him and picked up one of his toys. "Hey, there, Trunksy, what're you and Gramma doing?" she asked in baby-talk. Since Vegeta wasn't around to yell at her for talking like that she could do it without getting into another argument.

Trunks grinned, showing off his few teeth, and clapped his hands excitedly. "Mama an' Gwammy play!" he squealed and fell onto his back in his excitement.

Unable to tell her baby boy that she had more important matters to attend to – namely running the largest, most important business in the world – she laughed and started playing with him. She hardly noticed the time passing until she smelled dinner cooking. The afternoon had passed quickly and now she was behind in her work. Again. She sighed and stood up, bent over and picked up Trunks, and went into the kitchen to get his supper ready so he could eat with the adults at the table.

Twenty minutes later Trunks was throwing as much food around as he was eating while sitting in his high chair between Bulma and Vegeta, who tried his hardest to ignore the baby's disgusting antics. He couldn't understand why the humans thought it was so 'adorable' to see a child with mushy food smeared across his face and squishing between his chubby fingers.

"So, Vegeta," Bulma started calmly, "You'd better be ready to visit Chichi and Gohan after you're finished eating."

Vegeta glared at her as he ate, though she couldn't see him because she was too busy trying to get Trunks' food _in_ his mouth. He rolled his eyes and turned his full attention back to his food. There was no way he was going to see that harpy and Kakarrot's spawn. He hated them. He hated the boy for outclassing him in the fight with Cell and he hated the woman for her ability to put his mate's screaming to shame. And he hated the newest spawn for existing.

Once finished eating, Vegeta pushed back from the table and stood. "I am _not_ going to see that idiot's brat," he grumbled as he stalked across the room to the door. He felt his mate's ki spike in anger and shook his head. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with her temper.

"Vegeta!" she screeched. "Don't you dare leave this room." She banged her hands on the table as she stood up and marched over to where the saiyan was still standing, ready to make his escape. "Chichi is my friend and since you're my husband you're going to go with me to visit."

The prince whirled around and scowled at the blue-haired woman with fire burning in his obsidian eyes. He raised one finger and pointed at her. "She is _your_ friend, not mine. I have no desire to see her. I hate that woman, and if I am correct, she hates me. It would be better for me to stay here," he growled, pointing now at the floor, "So stop telling me what I have to do."

That said, he pivoted on his heel and left the kitchen, the door slamming shut behind him. Bulma growled in frustration and went back over to the table to pick Trunks up from his high chair and went down the hall to the gravity room. Unsurprisingly, the gravity simulator was running again. She hated how he locked himself up in the gravity room when he was upset with her. Then again, it was better than having him destroying half the planet.

She shifted Trunks to one arm and banged on the door with her free hand. There was no way she was giving up in this fight. "Vegeta, you know Trunks is going to be, like, best friends with him, so you might as well meet him," she yelled through the metal door.

Inside the gravity room, Vegeta growled and continued throwing punches at an imaginary opponent. He imagined Kakarrot's face, actually, for he was the one who was the cause of his current unpleasant predicament. He tried to ignore the incessant banging on the door and the screaming that was, thankfully, muffled by the door. He launched himself into another series of punches and kicks and nearly toppled over ungracefully when the gravity suddenly lowered.

Regaining his balance, he turned to the door and clenched his fists at his sides as his mate came into the room with their son in her arms. She was glaring right back and he knew he had his work cut out for him getting her to give up on her demands this time.

"The emergency override, really?" he asked snidely as he turned his back on her and walked over to the gravity console.

"Dada!" Trunks yelled, reaching his arms out to his father and nearly falling out of Bulma's arms in the process.

Bulma watched as Vegeta's muscles tensed and sighed. After the Cell Games he returned to stay at Capsule Corp, but he hadn't really taken on his role of father. She sensed it wasn't because he didn't care for the boy, but rather a sort of apprehension toward dealing with him. He was clearly uncomfortable with the child's unconditional love. She shook her head and pushed her thoughts aside as she walked over to where Vegeta was standing, moving around him so he had to look at her.

"Come on, Vegeta, what's the big deal? He's a baby, he won't bite," she pleaded. "Please just come with me. Like I said, he and Trunks are going to be very close so you're going to see an awful lot of him. Just go see him. I'm sure Gohan would like to see you too."

Vegeta frowned and raised an eyebrow. "Why would that brat want to see _me_?"

Bulma sighed and shifted Trunks' weight in her arms. "Because you're the closest thing he has to a father figure now since Goku's gone. You're the only remaining full-blooded saiyan. He needs you because you're the only one who'll understand what he's going through. Maybe he won't _want_ to see you, but he _needs_ you."

Vegeta's lip raised in contempt as he again turned away from his mate. "Why should I care?" he snarled. "I'm not the boy's father and I don't give a damn about him. Now leave me alone, Woman."

She shrugged off his callous reply and tried again. "Vegeta, if you don't go with me to see Chichi this minute then I'm shutting down the gravity console for a week." That threat had been known to work from time to time before. She was sure it wouldn't fail now.

Instead, the only response Bulma got was a half-hearted shrug. "Do as you like, Woman," he mumbled. "I don't need to train anyway. It's not as though I'm going to fight again."

Bulma felt a pang of guilt course through her veins as she watched the once proud saiyan trudge out of the gravity room. She hadn't seen him so defeated in a few weeks, so it bothered to see him like that again. He'd been different since Goku died. He hardly trained, and when he did it was only because he was mad and needed to rid himself of his anger by unleashing it in the gravity room. If he didn't do that, he would bottle it up inside until it ate away at his sanity. At first she'd been happy when he refused to train, but then she realized that, rather than it being his choice to spend more time with his family, it was because he was depressed.

'Maybe he's still upset over Goku's death. I know it still makes me sad sometimes. Much as he says he hates him, I know he meant a lot to him in one way or another,' Bulma mused as she closed the gravity room door and went back through the halls to the living room so she could set Trunks down in his saiyan-proof playpen. 'Maybe that's why he doesn't want anything to do with Goku's sons: they remind him of their father.'

Vegeta groaned when he heard the woman come into the room with Trunks. He curled into a ball on the couch in the dark corner of the room, hoping she wouldn't notice his presence. He chided himself mentally for not going to a more private place in the compound. He growled when he felt her sit next to him and run her fingers through his hair.

"It's ok, Vegeta," she whispered soothingly, "I won't make you go see them. I just thought maybe you wanted to see him since he is kind of a saiyan. But I understand."

Vegeta chose to say nothing in reply. He felt bitter toward her for assuming she knew what made him so reluctant to see the clown's offspring. She could never understand his shame. She could never understand how it tore him apart to see his rival's legacy living on, stronger than him, and just a boy! No doubt the younger one would have the same potential. It made bile rise in his throat when he thought about it.

Bulma frowned and scratched her prince behind his ear. "I'll take Trunks and go see Chichi and Gohan in the morning. You don't have to come." She leaned over and kissed his cheek and got up to go help her mother with the dishes from dinner.

Vegeta buried his face in his arms until he heard his son babbling across the room. He looked up and saw the lavender-haired baby looking at him expectantly. "What?" he asked.

The baby cocked his head and banged on the side of the playpen, silently commanding his father to let him out so he could cause mayhem somewhere else in the compound. When his father didn't move, he pouted and banged harder, making more noise. Eventually he decided the only thing that would accomplish his goal would be turning on the water works. It started with some sniffling and then a few stray tears before he started bawling his eyes out.

Vegeta just stared at the baby, feeling rather detached from the situation at hand. Under normal circumstances he would have shouted at the boy to be quiet, but he didn't care this time. Besides, the effort it would take to quiet the boy down was too much; he felt too exhausted to move though he hardly pushed himself in his training. So he shut out the screams of his infant son and retreated into the dark depths of his mind.

Several minutes went by before Bulma came running into the room to check up on Trunks. She swept him into her arms to calm him down, kissing his blotchy, tear-stained face as she cooed comforting words into his ear. Once he finally stopped crying, she turned to the saiyan who was still lying on the couch and frowned. "Well, were you just going to let him go on crying all night or what? Honestly, would it kill you to just take care of your son for a change?"

He blinked slowly and shrugged again before pulling himself into a tighter ball. He heard her exasperated groan and felt some guilt, but quickly brushed it off. It wasn't his job to coddle the infant. He never claimed to be a good father. Hell, he never agreed to acting like a father at all, so what did the woman expect of him? He didn't have it in him. He didn't know what to do in the first place.

Bulma saw the familiar shadow of hopelessness pass over her husband and took a deep breath. She couldn't be mad at him, not now. He needed her to love him; yelling at him wouldn't help anything. Bouncing Trunks in her arms, she paced back and forth through the room a few times before putting him back down in his playpen and handed him a toy.

"Please, Vegeta," she whispered as she walked out of the room, "Please be a father for your son."

Vegeta winced when he heard her words that weren't intended for him to hear. Slowly, he uncurled and stood up to go upstairs to bed. It was still early, but he was tired. He always felt tired and slept more often than not. When he was near Trunks, he looked down at the smiling boy and frowned again. "You will be great one day, boy," he muttered, "But not because of me."

Images of his older son from the future flitted through his mind as he watched his son playing. He was a strong man, respectful, a man of integrity and honor. He had good manners and he was humble and kind. He was a worthy warrior and still compassionate. He was all this without having a cold-hearted, twisted father with a dark past raising him. He didn't need a father and neither did the baby sitting there looking up at him with curious blue eyes.

And neither did the new spawn of Kakarrot. He couldn't even be a father to his own son, how could he hope to be one for his rival's sons?


	2. Are You My Father?

Are You My Father?

After letting it continue for several minutes straight, he could no longer ignore it. Two piercing black eyes turned down to glare at the small child tugging on his pants. His lip raised in a sneer when the boy wasn't intimidated.

"What the hell do you want?" he snapped, kicking the boy away.

The boy, no older than four years, tumbled away and landed in a heap of tangled limbs and wild black hair reminiscent of his father's. Rather than bursting into tears at his harsh treatment, he grinned and flipped himself over and sat on the floor looking up at the towering figure of the saiyan prince.

"Uncle Vegeta, where's my dad? Why does Trunks have a dad and I don't? Where'd he go? Gohan talks about him a lot, but I've never met him. Did you know him? What's he like?" he spouted off his questions in a slurred jumble of hurried words that 'Uncle Vegeta' could hardly understand.

Vegeta clutched his head with his hands and growled as the boy's incessant questions continued. He hoped that Kakarrot's younger brat would run out of air and pass out soon. Even the questions he could understand he didn't want to answer. Finally, when he couldn't stand it any longer, he stomped his foot down on the ground, cracking the tile floor and snapping the boy into a stunned silence.

"Brat, would you shut the hell up?" he shouted. He crossed his arms over his chest in satisfaction when the boy's mouth shut and he nodded. He smirked as he made his decision to answer some of the questions. "You don't have a dad because your idiot father chose to stay dead instead of having to put up with you, your brother, and your banshee mother."

Goten's eyes started to well up with tears. "You mean my daddy didn't love us?"

Smirking wider, Vegeta replied, "That's right. He left you because he doesn't care for you."

Thoroughly pleased with himself, Vegeta turned on his heel to leave his rival's younger brat with the ideas he planted in his innocent mind. He didn't get very far before he heard the Goku clone call out to him. "But Uncle Vegeta, Gohan said he loved us a lot!"

The saiyan prince had to restrain himself from blasting the child into another dimension. He couldn't care less what the brat's brother told him. No one would leave his family for eternity when given the opportunity to return to them if he really cared for them, would he? The scent of salty tears permeated the air, making Vegeta feel nauseous. He couldn't stand weakness, especially in a saiyan. Even a demi-saiyan child should always be strong, which meant no crying. Rolling his eyes, he turned back around and grimaced at the boy's disgusting display of emotion.

"Stop your crying, brat," he commanded firmly. "It doesn't matter what Gohan told you. The truth of the matter is that your father left you by choice and he's never coming back. If you want to know why you don't have a father, why don't you ask _him_?"

Goten continued sniffling, but wiped away his tears and tried to be strong, at least in front of his best friend's father. He wasn't so stupid that he didn't notice the man always pushing him away, but he looked up to him anyway. Aside from his older brother, he thought Vegeta was probably the coolest guy in the world and he aspired to be just like him when he grew up. He didn't have a father, but Uncle Vegeta was his role model. Still, he didn't like what he was being told about his real dad. His mother and brother always described him as a great hero, so how could he have willingly left them? Heroes don't abandon their families.

Vegeta watched the confusion clearly written across Goten's face and shook his head. He didn't have the time or patience – or desire – to console the boy. He just told it as it was. He never withheld the truth from anyone, regardless of how painful it was. Vegeta wondered where his son had run off to. Normally the two boys were inseparable, and he was desperately wanting to rid himself of Kakarrot's spawn before he was forced to kill him to preserve his own sanity.

"So was my dad a hero?" Goten asked quietly, tentatively. He knew his Uncle Vegeta wouldn't lie to him. He needed to know the answer to his question, and the best person he knew to ask was someone he could trust.

The innocent question caught the saiyan prince off-guard. He stared at the boy dumbfounded for a moment before returning to his schooled stoic expression. He sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to calm himself down. He was quickly losing patience with the mini-Kakarrot and wanted to leave, but he knew that would be a bad idea because the child would probably manage to wreck half his home if left unattended. Finally, he calmed himself down enough to answer Goten's question, deciding it would be the last.

He took a deep breath and clenched his fists at his sides as he prepared to give the answer that would shame him. He hated admitting it, but he answered honestly, "Yes."

Goten furrowed his brow as he considered what Uncle Vegeta just told him. His dad willingly left him and his family, but he was still a hero. That didn't add up in his young mind. Heroes were always there for their loved ones when they needed them. "I don't think he was."

Vegeta was dumbstruck for the second time in five minutes. First the brat was defending his clown of a father, now he was the one attacking his honor by saying he wasn't actually a hero. He couldn't figure the brat out if his life depended on it. Shaking his head again at the hopelessness of having any effective communication with the boy, he turned and left the room. His home be damned, he could practically feel his brain cells dying the longer he was in the presence of his foolish rival's son.

A few minutes later, Vegeta was busy training in the gravity room when he heard someone knocking on the door. He immediately knew it wasn't his mate because it wasn't loud enough and there wasn't any screaming coming from the other side of the door. He sensed the ki and groaned when he realized it was the little brat again. Sliding his hand down his face, he reluctantly turned the gravity back to normal and strode over to the door and swung it open.

"What, brat?" he bellowed. He had already had enough interaction with him for one day.

Goten, who nearly fell on his nose when the door was flung open, regained his balance and grinned up at the angry saiyan. He rubbed the back of his head, a gesture that mirrored his father's even though he never knew him. It made Vegeta's stomach turn. He hated how alike they were. It was as if his rival had come back from the grave in the form of a small boy just to haunt him and continue making his life miserable. The worst part was there would be no honor in killing the child who would be unable to defend himself.

"Uncle Vegeta –"

"I'm not your damn uncle!" Vegeta barked, interrupting the boy. He didn't know when he started being referred to by that ridiculous name, but he hated it. He wasn't in any way related to the boy and resented the term.

Goten continued as if he hadn't been yelled at, "If my dad's never coming back, then will you be my dad?"

Vegeta's eyebrow raised slowly as he ran Goten's request through his mind several times over, trying to figure out what he heard wrong. Vegeta was sure the child was crazy. Why would he want to be his dad, even if he could be? He was certain he never gave the impression that he _cared_ about him. He didn't give him attention, avoided him whenever possible, wasn't gentle with him, didn't spare his feelings. How did any of that add up to being a father? He hated the kid! He hated his whole family! Snarling at the idiot child, he slammed the door shut and reactivated the gravity console, determined to continue his training without more distractions.

"Foolish boy!" Vegeta muttered to himself as he started his kata, "To think he would ask me to be his father! Insolent little brat."

Goten felt his heart breaking as he trudged away from the gravity room. He felt as if he'd lost two fathers in one day. Abandoned by one and rejected by the other. Hopelessness began to thread its way through his mind as he took one last glance back at the closed door that symbolized his rejection and disappointment. Tears stung his eyes as he made his way back to the main part of the Capsule Corp compound in search of some comfort. Maybe his Aunt Bulma would be around. He always liked seeing her.

Trunks was still playing video games in the living room when Goten went in to see if he could find his friend's mother. Goten, for once, wasn't interested in joining his friend in playing any games. At four years old he felt as if his life lost meaning when he learned neither of his fathers wanted him. Goten left the living room when he didn't see who he was looking for and continued his search in the kitchen. He found the nice blonde lady baking cookies. Normally, he would have stolen a few with his super speed, but he wasn't hungry for the first time he could remember. No, the only thing he wanted right now was love.

With a determined gait, Goten headed down the hall of the compound that would lead him to the place where he could always find Aunt Bulma when she wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. She called it her lab. He didn't know what that meant, but he knew he would find her there. He also knew she didn't like being bothered when she was there, but he couldn't wait. He had to see her immediately.

Stopping in front of the metal door, Goten looked up at the keypad next to it and felt a rush of despair run through his veins. He didn't know the code to get in. For a moment he considered turning back, but he was hurting too much. So, with only a hint of hesitation, he raised his small fist and knocked as loudly as he could.

"Aunt Bulma?" he called through the door, "Are you there?"

Bulma cursed under her breath when the surprise of hearing someone knocking on her lab door caused her hand to slip, ruining the computer chip she was fixing. She exhaled slowly before stomping up the stairs to the door to open it.

"What is it, Goten?" she asked testily before noticing how distraught the child was. Her heart instantly softened when she saw the tears in his eyes and the pain in his features. "Oh, honey, are you alright?" she asked, kneeling down in front of him and putting her hands on his shoulders.

Goten shook his head furiously and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, Uncle Vegeta said my dad didn't love me. And then he said he wouldn't be my dad since my dad's gone and isn't coming back."

"He told you what?" Bulma asked incredulously.

"He said my dad didn't love –"

"I know what you said, Goten," Bulma clarified. "I just can't believe he told you that! It's not true, not at all. Goku loved you very, very much."

"But Uncle Vegeta said –"

"What he said isn't true," she interrupted again. "Don't believe a word he said. Vegeta was just being nasty."

Goten looked at his Aunt Bulma in wonder. He was more confused now than ever! He trusted his Uncle Vegeta, and now he was being told he shouldn't. He shook his head again and tried again. "Uncle wouldn't lie, Aunt Bulma!"

Bulma sighed and hugged the young demi-saiyan tightly and rocked back and forth. "Oh, Goten, he wasn't trying to lie. He just doesn't understand what love is. Now what's this about him not wanting to be your dad?"

"I don't have a dad, and Uncle Vegeta is Trunks' dad, so I thought he could be my dad too. But I don't think he wants to be," Goten explained.

The blue-haired scientist chuckled as she ruffled Goten's hair. "Don't worry about that, Goten. Vegeta might never express it in words, but he will always look out for you." Bulma smiled and stood back up. 'I think he will, anyway,' she added mentally.

"Wow, really?" Goten shouted, jumping up and down excitedly. "You mean he's my dad?"

Bulma couldn't tell the beaming little boy that he misunderstood. She just nodded and pushed Goten toward the living room, encouraging him to go play with her son. She felt like she might need to talk to Vegeta about this before Goten went and had his hopes crushed again.

Vegeta growled with frustration when he heard his mate banging on the door to the gravity room and screaming at him to come out and talk. He hated having 'talks' with her, especially when it was about some trivial little thing. He was sure he already knew what this talk would be about and already wanted it to be over. Surrendering to the unavoidable confrontation, he turned off the gravity simulator and opened the door of the gravity room to let Bulma come in. He figured he might as well get it over with sooner rather than later.

"What do you want, Woman?" he asked tiredly, going over to the gravity console to lean against it with feet and arms crossed.

Bulma followed him over and leaned against the console next to him. She found that he was generally easier to talk to when she wasn't facing him. It seemed to make him less defensive. She waited a moment, trying to think of the best way to broach the subject on her mind.

Finally, she voiced her thoughts. "So Goten told me he asked you to be his dad, and you apparently weren't too keen on the idea. But I told him you'd look out for him. Because I think you do care about him, at least a little bit." She chanced a glance his way and saw his discomfort.

"What would have ever given you the foolish notion that I care about that brat?" he asked, his voice deadpan. She hated when he made himself so unreadable.

"Well, there was that time you threw him out of the way of your own ki blast when he ran into the gravity room," she reminded the prince.

Vegeta scoffed. "The blast would have killed him."

"You could have let him die."

"And have had his harpy mother scream at me until my ears bled?"

Bulma smiled and shook her head. Of course he would have an excuse ready for doing anything nice. She thought of another example of caring for Goten. "What about the time you made him and Trunks lunch when I was out shopping with my mom?"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "If I hadn't, they would have destroyed the kitchen trying to find food. You know how impish they are."

"Or the time he fell and scraped his knee and you put a band-aid on it?"

"It was that or listen to him whining the rest of the day."

"The time you put him to bed when he and Trunks stayed up so late they fell asleep on the couch?"

"It was that or…" Vegeta stopped mid-sentence, trying to think of an excuse for that one. He was genuinely stumped, but he didn't want to admit he did it out of the kindness of his heart. "What was I supposed to do, leave him there?"

Bulma shrugged and tried to hide her triumphant smirk. "You could have."

Vegeta pushed away from the gravity console and paced around a few times, clearly agitated. He couldn't admit to himself that he cared for the boy. He hated him, right? He's just the spawn of Kakarrot. He meant nothing to him. Maybe he _should_ have let him die when he was a toddler. Then he wouldn't be having this stupid conversation right now. He shook his head and went back over to the console where Bulma was still standing.

"Whatever, Woman. Get out so I can train," he grumbled.

Bulma nodded and kissed his cheek as she passed him on her way out of the gravity room. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she reached the door, catching the rare sight of the proud saiyan's shoulders slumped in embarrassment and a tinge of red in his cheeks. Yes, she knew he cared at least a _little_ for Goten, even if he'd never say it out loud, even if he'd never let himself realize it. Goten was practically a son to him. He was around enough.

"You're doing a great job raising those boys," she said softly right before the door closed behind her.

The slightest ghost of a smile played on Vegeta's lips as he resumed his training.


	3. Aggressive

Aggressive

"I just don't know what to do anymore!" the brunette woman cried, holding her face in her hands. "My sweet little boy has become a disrespectful delinquent! He's out of control."

Bulma patted her friend's back and gently rubbed her shoulders as she listened to her pouring out her frustrations as a mother of a boy going through puberty. "It's ok, Chichi, he's just going through a rough patch. You know how teenagers are."

Chichi smacked her hands against the table in front of her and shook her head so fast her blue-haired friend was surprised she didn't make herself dizzy. "You don't understand, Bulma, this is _Gohan_ we're talking about! He's not like other boys," she insisted, wiping a stray tear from her flushed cheek. "I just wish Goku were here to help him get through whatever's going on with him."

It was at that moment that the Prince of all Saiyans decided to make his appearance in the Capsule Corp kitchen. He caught the tail end of the women's conversation and scoffed audibly as he strode over to the refrigerator to grab a sports drink. He'd spent all morning training and was taking a short break before lunch. Had he realized the harpy was visiting he would have gone out of his way to avoid her, but it was too late for that now.

"My baby's not supposed to be a fighter like his father was," Chichi whispered to the table as she rested her head on its cool, smooth surface.

Vegeta nearly choked on his drink when he heard the younger woman's complaint. As much as he _did not_ care, he had to say something about it. He finished his drink and tossed the empty bottle into the trash and got into his classic condescending pose with nose slightly raised and arms crossed over his broad chest. "Don't be an idiot, woman," he sneered, "The boy is half saiyan. Fighting is in his blood."

Chichi's head snapped up as she fixed the saiyan prince with a cold glare. She was not going to put up with an arrogant jerk like him telling her about her own son! "In case you'd forgotten, he's also human and he never liked fighting before. Now all of a sudden all he wants to do is go out and spar with that – that Piccolo," she spat, waving her arms wildly in front of her, "and now I can't get him to sit still long enough to complete his studies!"

The flame-haired saiyan shrugged as he crossed the room to take his leave. "He's thirteen this year, isn't he? All saiyans become aggressive at that age. He just needs to work it out of his system, then he'll return to normal. Too bad the brat doesn't have a decent sparring partner."

Both women stared at him wide-eyed as he disappeared through the door and then turned to each other with brows furrowed. That _almost_ sounded like an invitation for Gohan to train with him. Not that Chichi would allow Gohan to come under the influence of that horrible man anyway, but was he actually willing to help the young demi-saiyan get through this change in his life?

"Do you think he's right?" Chichi asked her friend after a minute of silence passed.

Bulma, like her husband, shrugged and turned her gaze to the window where she could see Gohan practicing his kata in the yard. The boy did seem different lately. He wasn't less polite, exactly, but he did have an air of disinterest about him and he was always eager to train, either by himself or with one of the other warriors whenever the opportunity arose. The only one he hadn't had a spar with so far was Vegeta. Bulma had to wonder why he was avoiding the last pure-blooded saiyan. Fear? She didn't think so, but then, Vegeta could be rather intimidating.

"I'm sure Vegeta knows what he's talking about," Bulma said carefully, trying not to anger her temperamental friend. "He does know a lot about being saiyan, after all. Even though Gohan is only half saiyan, he's bound to act like one in some ways. So maybe it is just a phase that he needs to get through. I know it's hard, Chi, but maybe you need to let him fight more."

Chichi frowned but nodded slowly. She rapped her fingers on the table as she became lost in thought. She needed to let Gohan fight, but she was terribly afraid of him getting hurt. She wanted to guide him into a successful life as a scholar, but if he couldn't focus on his studies, that would never happen. It looked like the only way to make her dream come true would be to give in and let her older son train regularly, at least until he made it through puberty. Or, better yet, until he was done with his aggressive 'phase.' Yes, she had to get him through it as soon as possible, which meant he needed to spar _a lot_. A devious smirk formed on her lips.

Bulma quirked her eyebrow as she watched Chichi's expression change. She knew it meant trouble. She averted her eyes when her friend turned to her, ready to hatch a plan she knew she wanted nothing to do with.

"Bulma," Chichi started, her tone sickeningly sweet, "Since he knows _so_ much about what Gohan is going through, you don't think Vegeta would be willing to help him, would you?"

The blue-haired woman smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand and shook her head. She did _not_ want to get dragged into this mess. "I don't know, Chichi. You'd have to talk to him. Besides, Gohan might not want to train with Vegeta. He wouldn't go easy on him."

The brunette wasn't really listening as she stood up so fast her chair toppled over backwards. She was a woman on a mission now, and nothing was going to stand in her way. She practically ran out of the kitchen and went outside to where Gohan was practicing his fighting techniques. Bulma watched out the window as the poor boy was dragged back inside without a choice in the matter. She had to stifle a laugh when she heard his polite protests as they moved past the kitchen and down the hall in the direction of the gravity room. As fearful as she was of Vegeta's reaction to the plan, she didn't get up from her seat, instead deciding to let the others work it out themselves.

Chichi pulled Gohan to the gravity room door and started banging on it with both of her fists. Her son tried to sneak away while he was free of her iron grip, but before he could get more than two steps away she had the back of his gi balled in one hand while the other continued pounding mercilessly on the door.

"What the hell does that harpy want?" Vegeta asked himself as landed on the floor with a thud, having been hit by his own attack when the sudden knocking distracted him for a fraction of a second. He rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself to his hands and knees and groaned in pain. Falling twenty feet in 500 times Earth's gravity was not a pleasant experience.

"Mom, I don't think he's going to open the door," Gohan mumbled as a bright red blush rose in his cheeks. He felt Vegeta's ki plummet to the floor and knew the saiyan would not be happy about his mother's interruption of his training.

By now Vegeta was back on his feet, walking stiffly over to the gravity console to turn it back down to normal gravity. He knew why the crazy banshee had come to see him since he could sense Gohan's energy outside the door with her. With a sigh of relief when the intense gravity lifted, Vegeta stalked over to the door and threw it open with his best scowl already set on his face.

He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow as he waited for the woman to explain why she was bothering him. He certainly wasn't going to offer to help the boy, even though he was interested to see how much he had progressed in the past two years. That was the only reason he was even considering training with the boy, or at least that's what he told himself.

Chichi shoved Gohan into the training room with Vegeta and calmly crossed her arms as if nothing needed to be said. But when she felt the full-blooded saiyan's piercing glare she reconsidered. "I'd like you to train Gohan," she said confidently, "At least until he's had enough of fighting once and for all."

"And if I refuse?" Vegeta asked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.

It was apparent the boy's mother hadn't thought of that possibility as her eyes widened in surprise and she stammered for a sensible reply. Finally, she swallowed and waved her hand dismissively as she answered, "Oh, you won't refuse. I know you're dying to see if he's still stronger than you."

Vegeta growled as he slammed the door shut in her face and stalked over to the gravity console, ready to start his training session with his rival's son. He couldn't take his anger out on the harpy, but he would have no qualms about beating the boy senseless for his mother's audacity. "Get ready, boy," he snarled, "I'm not going to go easy on you."

Gohan gulped as he raised his ki in preparation for the increased gravity that would come at any second and lowered himself into the fighting stance that was a perfect blend of Piccolo's and Goku's. He hadn't really wanted to spar with the saiyan prince. He wasn't afraid of him, really, but he did know that things could easily get out of hand with him. The saiyan was infamous for his pride and ability to hold grudges when he was humiliated, so if he beat him in a spar, he would have to constantly watch his back. But if he lost, he would never live it down, and while it may not have bothered him before, the idea of being thought a weakling enraged him. This was why he avoided Vegeta: fighting with him was a lose-lose situation. Now he didn't have a choice in the matter, it seemed, so he had to quickly come up with the answer to the question he was asking himself. Which loss is worse?

Brushing aside the nagging voice in the back of his mind that was telling him he was going soft, Vegeta set the gravity for 50Gs, which would provide for a light workout for him while still being manageable for Gohan. Once the gravity simulator was engaged, he turned to face his young opponent and sank into his own fighting stance. He smirked as Gohan appraised him, looking for any flaws in his defenses and finding none.

"First to ascend automatically loses. Otherwise normal rules," Vegeta stated as he finished his assessment of the demi-saiyan.

Gohan nodded curtly as he readied himself to make the first attack. His father always taught him to wait for his enemy to make the first move so they would have to fight on his terms, but he thought it might be better to try catching the saiyan prince off guard. He knew he had years of experience over him and maybe greater strength since he'd been training for the past two years while he'd been stuck inside studying.

Immediately after a simultaneous nod indicating the start of the spar, Gohan rushed forward with fist raised ready to strike. Vegeta blocked the punch and sent his own toward the boy's exposed chest, but it was easily dodged. Smirking, he swung his leg around and felt his leg connecting with Gohan's back. It had been far too long since he'd had a real opponent to test his strength against.

The two warriors were fairly evenly matched as they fought, exchanging rapid flurries of blows too fast for the human eye to see. Gohan was looking the worse for wear, though, as Vegeta's attacks were much more accurate and carefully calculated to deliver the maximum damage without letting his defense down. The fact that he was being beaten despite his power being equal to the prince's infuriated Gohan until he was almost blinded by his rage. His attacks were coming faster, but they were sloppy and rarely made their mark.

Vegeta saw what was happening to the teenager and frowned. He knew how it felt to want so badly to win, yet still be unable to control himself. It happened to him when he was thirteen, too. It happened to all saiyans. It was a miserable time during which he experienced many more losses than victories when he fought. His boiling rage made battles dangerous because he would lose control and either push himself too hard or make nearly fatal mistakes. Gohan wouldn't have to fight for his life as he had, but he still understood how painful it was for the boy to go through the tumultuous waves of inexplicable aggression and bloodlust with no outlet for it.

As he dodged another punch, Vegeta drove his elbow into the small of Gohan's back, driving him down into the floor. He sidestepped the boy as he walked back over to the gravity console to turn it off when he felt his ki drop with unconsciousness. He derived no sense of satisfaction from his victory; not because he didn't enjoy beating his rival's son, but because he knew the win only stemmed from the boy's messy technique.

Gohan's eyes cracked open and a low groan ripped through his dry throat as his whole body seemed to throb in agony. He blinked as his vision focused until he could make out a pair of white boots standing in front of him. Who did he know who wore white boots? He tried to think, but his mind was too jumbled. He couldn't remember what happened to make him hurt so badly. All his memories came rushing back when he heard the owner of the boots speak.

"Get up, boy," Vegeta growled. "You've obviously been trying to repress your aggressive nature for too long and it's having a stronger effect than normal."

"Repressing what?" Gohan asked dumbly as he forced himself to sit up and ignore his spinning head.

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "At age thirteen the full aggressive drive of a saiyan awakens and for a period of time becomes overwhelming before it can be controlled and used effectively. Trying to ignore your aggression has only made it worse. If you'd just give in and fight, you would be able to learn to tame it and stop yourself from going ballistic at the drop of a hat."

"You must have never gained control, then," Gohan laughed as he struggled to stand up. He didn't even realize he voiced his thought until he found himself on the floor again with a new throbbing sensation in his jaw.

Insolent as the comment had been, Vegeta had to smirk as he mentally agreed. He knew as well as anyone that his temper was rather mercurial. It didn't take much to set him off. Still, he was _mostly_ able to control himself and wouldn't allow some brat to mock him. "You might also learn to control that mouth of yours," he snapped as he walked to the gravity console. "Now get up. It's time for another spar."

Without waiting for a reply, Vegeta engaged the gravity, turning it up to 75Gs this time. He was only slightly fatigued from his last fight with the demi-saiyan and was ready for another round. He turned again to face the boy and scowled when he found him staring blankly at him as if he had just grown a second head.

"Another spar?" Gohan asked shakily. He hadn't recovered from the first yet!

Vegeta moved into his fighting stance as he replied, "That was a hardly a spar before. More like me using you as a punching bag. We're going to keep fighting until I've beaten that disrespect out of you, _boy_. Same rules as before."

Gohan's face contorted in an uncharacteristic scowl as a flame of anger ignited in his core again. It was becoming a familiar feeling. He didn't know exactly what set him off. It might have been the way Vegeta's attitude was so condescending, or maybe the fact that he wasn't being given a choice about fighting. Or maybe, most likely, it was the way Vegeta was calling him a weakling! He knew it, he just knew that's how it would be if he ever lost a fight. He was determined not to lose again. The prince's pride be damned, he needed to get over himself.

The next fight only lasted a few minutes before Gohan was once again knocked unconscious and lying on the floor of the gravity room. Vegeta shook his head as he circled around the bruised and bloodied body of his rival's eldest. "I know this is tough, brat," he muttered, "but you'll get through it. We all do. You're just lucky you don't have some sadistic bastard tyrant as your 'trainer.' I would never do to you what he did to me."

Vegeta's cold eyes softened for a second before he shook off his foolish sentimentality. He turned off the console on his way out of the gravity chamber. If he was going to keep this up, he needed to get some nourishment. He sighed, knowing it was going to be a long few months ahead.

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far! I really appreciate your feedback. I am trying to keep Vegeta in character as much as possible, so it's always encouraging when you tell me he is. :)_

_Also, if you have any ideas for future chapters, don't hesitate to tell me! I have a few ideas lined up, but I'm always open for more. Keep the reviews coming and I'll keep writing new chapters._


	4. Babysitter

Babysitter

This was quite possibly the worst situation he had ever been put in. He had been in battles with opponents ten times stronger, died once, faced endless humiliation, had his home destroyed, was enslaved for almost three decades, and endured countless tortures, but this was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Vegeta stared at the bawling infant with a mixture of repulsion and dread. If he couldn't get the brat to shut up, then the other one would start in as well. His ears were already ringing, and he couldn't help but think his ears were going to bleed as his eardrums burst. He'd already tried screaming at the little monster, but that only succeeded in turning its already unbearable volume up.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" he asked himself helplessly as he covered his ears with his hands.

He really wasn't in the mood for this. Somehow, fate dealt him another wild card when the woman left to buy groceries when _she_ was supposed to be taking care of the brats. He was left to – what was the word? – babysit them while she was gone since her parents were gone on some sort of business trip and the wailing infant's harpy mother was long gone with her older brat to do only Kami knows what.

Taking care of babies was not the job of the Prince of all Saiyans. He never took care of his own son, let alone someone else's, especially Kakarrot's. He stalked over to the crib where the baby was supposed to be sleeping and glared down at it with unrepressed hatred burning in his eyes. "Look here, brat," he growled, "You are going to shut up this instant or I'm going to blast you and your entire family into the next dimension."

The wild-haired baby paused in its crying and gazed up at the angry saiyan. His mouth initially formed an 'O' shape as it appeared to almost comprehend the threat. Then, instead of shaking in fear, a wide smile broke out across his chubby face, showing off his toothless gums. Vegeta sneered at the expression that reminded him too much of the brat's foolish father.

"That's better. If you make one more sound," Vegeta hissed, pointing his finger at the baby, "I will make good on my threat. Don't you dare doubt my word."

Goten's smile only broadened as he reached up and grabbed Vegeta's extended finger with both hands. He laughed and kicked his legs in merriment, which was only intensified when he saw the startled expression on the prince's face.

Vegeta yanked his hand away and snarled at the baby before turning on his heel and marching out of the nursery, the door slamming shut behind him. He only made it a few steps down the hall before his ears were assaulted with the howls of two demi-saiyan babies. He actually stopped in his tracks and considered going back to try shutting them up, but then shook his head and continued on his way to the kitchen. It was past lunchtime and he was hungry. And if he was far enough away, he wouldn't be able to hear their screaming, making ignoring them much easier.

The saiyan sat down in his seat at the kitchen table with a mountain of food laid out before him. He was thankful for the woman's mother filling the refrigerator with plenty of pre-cooked meals before she left on the trip. It saved him having to cook for himself or depending on Bulma to make it for him – it wasn't awful, usually, but she had the nasty habit of forgetting to do it. He started eating, having already forgotten his two charges.

When he was finished, he dumped his dirty dishes in the sink for Bulma to wash later and went back upstairs, intent on going to the recreation room to watch TV for another few hours. It was essentially all he did with his time since Cell was defeated. He didn't particularly enjoy the human programs, but there was little else for him to do. He'd read every book in the compound and it bored him to reread them. He didn't feel like training, and his mate was gone so he couldn't seek entertainment from her.

He cringed when he reached the top of the stairs and heard the whimpering sounds coming from the nursery. No more full-blown crying, for both babies had tired themselves out too much to continue that, but they were still upset. He grumbled as he opened the door and peeked into the room. His nose wrinkled in disgust when he smelled something foul.

"Oh hell no," he muttered, shaking his head as he closed the door again, "Hell. No."

He finished his trek to the recreation room and collapsed on the couch and flipped the television on, ready to watch the idiot humans argue all afternoon on talk shows. His mind drifted as he easily lost interest in the show. 'When is that blasted woman going to get back here?' he wondered. As much as he tried to shake it, he couldn't rid himself of the feeling of guilt plaguing his mind for abandoning the brats. He knew they were helpless, yet he ignored their needs because he just plain didn't want to bother with them.

"I wouldn't even know what to do," he reasoned aloud as he turned off the TV and closed his eyes, deciding he could use a nap.

When ten minutes had passed and he was still wide awake, Vegeta sighed and sat up. He couldn't stop thinking about the brats. Though he was forced into it against his will, it was his duty to take care of them, at least until Bulma returned from shopping. He was starting to think she was purposely taking her time to prolong his torture.

With a groan of resignation, Vegeta marched back to the nursery and went inside before he could change his mind. He strode over to the crib and grabbed Trunks' ankle, lifted him, and sniffed him. He nearly gagged. "Why did it have to be you?" Vegeta groused as he carried the silent child over to the changing table and dropped him down on it. He smirked when his son didn't utter the slightest sound of discomfort.

He looked for the supplies needed to complete the gruesome task, trying to remember what he had seen his mate doing. Unfortunately, he didn't have many memories to go off of since he generally left the room as soon as he caught a whiff of the odor coming from the brat's diaper. He growled and practically ripped the pants and diaper off his infant son. He held Trunks by the feet, keeping his lower half above the changing table as he tossed the diaper into the specialized diaper receptacle and yanked a wipe out of the box. Forcing back the bile in his throat, he cleaned his son up and discarded the wipe before sliding a new diaper under him.

"You are disgusting, brat," Vegeta muttered as he finished putting the diaper on Trunks and forced him back into his pants. "You better learn to do this yourself soon."

When Trunks was back in the crib next to Goten, Vegeta again turned to leave since he didn't smell anything unpleasant coming from the latter. But as soon as he turned, he heard two small rumbling sounds coming from behind him. It was the unmistakable sound of a hungry saiyan. He sighed.

One demi-saiyan tucked under each arm, Vegeta entered the kitchen and dropped them on the kitchen table and crossed his arms. "What do you eat?" he asked, hoping against all odds that they would somehow figure out how to speak coherently enough to answer. They just stared at him blankly. He sighed again.

Eventually, he had Trunks eating a jar of baby food and Goten drinking a bottle of formula. When they were finished, he picked them up again and carried them to the living room and set them in the playpen where they would hopefully leave him alone. He lied down on the couch and turned the TV on. A few minutes later, the talk show he was watching was interrupted by the babbling of two babies. He growled and turned his attention to the playpen. He saw two blue eyes and two black eyes looking right back at him.

"What now, brats?" he barked. They only grinned and babbled in reply. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV.

"Da!"

Vegeta's eyes snapped back to the demi-saiyans. He couldn't tell which one said that. Not that it mattered. As far as he knew, 'da' was not a word. Just another sound they made as they tried to produce speech. He shook his head and went back to watching the talk show.

There was more incoherent babbling, then a very clear "Da!"

Vegeta's eye twitched. He couldn't push the thought from his mind that one of them was addressing him. He figured it had to be Trunks if either of them. After all, he was Trunks' father. He shook his head again. Neither of them was addressing him! 'Da' was _not_ a word, just a syllable one of them picked up from somewhere.

"Da!"

Now it was just getting annoying. Vegeta tried his hardest to ignore it.

"Da! Dah… Da!"

Vegeta spared the babies a glance. They gazed at him with shining eyes and huge smiles. He felt his stomach churn. Stupid brats.

"Dah. Dahda. Dada!"

Slowly, Vegeta sat up and then stood, his eyes locked on the brats as he took a step closer to them. He turned the TV off and kneeled down next to the playpen. "Who said that?" he demanded.

Goten giggled and clapped his hands while Trunks took sudden interest in his toes. Vegeta quirked an eyebrow. It appeared they weren't going to answer. Well, he had his ways of making people talk.

"If you don't answer me, I'll make sure you don't get food for the rest of the day."

Two pairs of lips quivered. It was the telltale sign of oncoming tantrums. Vegeta smirked. Apparently he'd struck a nerve. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for them to decide to answer. He brushed off the feeling of having ridiculous expectations for infants.

"Well?"

Trunks looked up from his toes and scowled at his friend, crossing his chubby arms, perfectly mimicking his father. Goten looked at him and then back up at Vegeta and then grinned. "Dada!" he squealed.

Vegeta's eyes widened. It was Kakarrot's brat? He couldn't believe it. The brat was only five months old, not nearly old enough to be talking. Of course he wasn't talking, he was just babbling like all babies his age did. It was merely coincidence that he said 'dada' and made it sound as if he was using it as a word with meaning. Still, Vegeta didn't much believe in coincidence. He needed to be sure.

Pointing to himself, he asked, "Dada?"

Goten clapped his hands vigorously and started screeching, "Dada! Dada! Dada!"

Ignoring the ringing in his ears, Vegeta pointed to Trunks and asked again, "Dada?"

Goten looked over at his friend and then back at Vegeta. He frowned.

"I'll take that as a no," Vegeta said. He pointed at himself again, just to make sure. "Dada?"

Goten smiled again. "Dada!"

"Stupid brat." Vegeta stood up and stalked out of the room, followed by the sound of his rival's son calling him 'dada.' He cringed and went upstairs to watch TV in peace. He didn't even care if Bulma came home and screamed at him for leaving them alone. He was suddenly feeling strangely uneasy around the Kakarrot clone.

_A/N: Can I just say "aww"… As always, please review! I love to know what you think :)_


	5. Shadows

Shadows

The prince felt the boys following him, but figured it didn't matter as long as they didn't get in the way. What he didn't count on was the boys following him around _all_ day. By lunchtime he was getting vaguely irritated by his little shadows. Vegeta sat at the kitchen table to eat his lunch, joined shortly by his son and the younger spawn of Kakarrot. As usual, they were practically joined at the hip. He rolled his eyes as he started eating, more determined than ever to ignore them.

Trunks, now seven years old and self-proclaimed expert on the world had convinced his younger friend Goten to follow his dad around so they could watch awesome in action. It wasn't hard to persuade the Goku lookalike since he agreed Vegeta was pretty much the coolest dad in the world.

What Vegeta didn't notice was the way both boys were carefully watching him and mimicking him as he ate his lunch. Their manners were, for once, impeccable as they were careful not to eat _too_ fast and make sure every bit of food got _in_ their mouths. They sat with their backs ramrod straight and even scowled at their plates as they ate, as if trying to intimidate their food before it was eaten. They shoved their plates aside simultaneously after Vegeta unknowingly demonstrated how to do it properly.

The saiyan's eye twitched when he saw them copy his action, but betrayed no other sign of having noticed what the brats were doing. He didn't see two eyes – one black and one blue – twitch as well as he stood up and stalked out of the kitchen to go train.

"Wow!" Goten exclaimed as they ran to catch up with the full-blooded saiyan, "Your dad is so cool, Trunks. Do you really think we can be like him?"

Trunks grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "Course, Goten. We just have to do everything he does."

With that settled, they darted into the gravity room behind Vegeta before he could shut them out. The prince growled when he saw he had company, but shrugged it off as he walked over to the gravity console. He didn't usually mind having Trunks in the gravity room training with him, but the younger spawn of Kakarrot never failed to get on his last nerve. What irritated him the most about them training with him was that he had to turn the gravity down so it wouldn't crush them.

Trunks and Goten hastily stretched before jumping to their feet and facing off against each other. Sparring was a game to them. They loved the competition, but they never took it very seriously. When the gravity simulator engaged, they flared their ki and started throwing punches and kicks at one another, having completely forgotten their reason for being in the gravity room to begin with.

Vegeta watched them for a minute before shaking his head and starting his kata. It started out simple enough, but by the end he was performing his most difficult moves at a blinding speed. It was a kata he never fully taught anyone, even Trunks. It was a combination of so many alien techniques he wasn't even sure how he managed to do them himself. Explaining them to someone else would have been all but impossible, so he didn't bother trying.

After finishing, Vegeta wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced over at the two boys who were no longer bouncing around the room at a rapid pace. He quirked an eyebrow when he saw that they were staring at him wide-eyed with mouths hanging open. The admiration in their eyes made him uneasy as he crossed the room to turn the gravity back to normal. Even with his back turned on them he could still feel their eyes on him.

Once the simulator was disengaged, he turned on his heel and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the console. "Would you shut your mouths? You look like fools," he barked at the demi-saiyans.

There were two audible snaps in the silence that followed. Vegeta kept a wary eye on the boys, still uncertain about the way they were acting. He cringed when he noticed them visibly trembling with excitement. That was never good. Usually chaos and destruction resulted from such excitement. He pressed himself back against the console as they ran toward him and started jumping up and down.

"Wow-Dad-that-was-the-coolest-thing-I've-ever-seen-can-you-teach-me-I-really-want-to-learn-how-to-do-that-please-teach-me-you-have-to-or-I'll-tell-mom-you-wouldn't-come-on-Dad-please-please-please!" Trunks spouted his words so fast it all came out in one breath. Vegeta could hardly understand half of what he said.

"Yeah-Uncle-Vegeta-I-want-to-learn-too-teach-me-too-that-was-the-coolest-don't-leave-me-out!" Goten babbled just as fast as Trunks.

Vegeta's eyes darted around the room as he searched for an escape from the hyperactive demi-saiyan demons. In one swift move he brushed them aside and disappeared from the room faster than the eye could see. With the door slammed shut behind him, Vegeta leaned against the metal barrier between him and an oncoming migraine and rubbed his temples. He could hear them shouting at him to let them out through the door but ignored their pleas.

Several minutes passed before Goten gave up banging on the door and turned to his older and wiser friend. "Do you think he'll teach us how to do that?"

Trunks shrugged and scowled at the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Aside from his eye and hair color, he looked like a replica of Vegeta as he silently fumed. "I don't know, Goten. Either way we're going to have to wait for him to let us out, so we might as well sit."

Vegeta heard his son on the other side of the door and sighed in relief. Good, he was able to outwait his stubborn brat's persistence. When he was sure they were both sitting and waiting for him to open the door to free them, he silently stalked down the hall to the safety of the back yard where he could train in peace and solitude. He winced when the back door banged shut behind him and quickly searched for the ki of his son to make sure he hadn't figured out he could leave the gravity room any time now. He smirked when he felt both his son and the other brat still in there, presumably sitting on the floor waiting for him.

He wasn't afraid of the boys. No, that definitely wasn't it. He just didn't want two children climbing all over him babbling incoherently until it made his head spin. He shook his head at the memory of that happening in the past and fell into his defensive stance to begin a battle with an imaginary opponent. He'd rather train under high gravity, but for the time being the gravity room was serving as a prison for the overly energetic brats.

"I can't feel Uncle Vegeta's energy outside the door anymore," Goten observed after several more minutes passed of sitting on the floor sulking.

Trunks looked up at the door and felt out his father's ki and found it outside the compound. He balled his fists and punched the floor. "He isn't there! We probably could have gotten out of here forever ago!" He jumped to his feet and ran over to the door. There was no longer any resistance when he tried to open it.

"Hey, we can go find him now!" Goten cheered as he hopped over Trunks and ran down the hall.

Vegeta heard the back door open and slam shut twice in close succession. Before he even had time to look he was tackled to the ground by two small demi-saiyans. With a growl of irritation he picked both of them up by the backs of their shirts and held them at arm's length. "What have I told you whelps about interrupting my training?" he snarled.

The boys gulped nervously. "Don't do it?" Goten piped up.

"That's right." Vegeta dropped them on the ground and moved away to continue his kata. He made a point of ignoring their awestruck gaping as he moved with grace across the lawn in a mock battle. There was no way they would learn his kata no matter how hard he might try to teach them. He wasn't going to waste his time. Just because he had taken up training again when Trunks was old enough to teach doesn't mean he was going to teach him_ everything_. Some things could not be taught except through experience.

Goten and Trunks watched from the sidelines as Vegeta punched and kicked an imaginary opponent, dodged unseen attacks, and flipped and leaped through the air to gain an advantage. Finally, Goten turned to his best friend with a huge grin on his face. "Hey, Trunks, I bet we could do that, too!"

Trunks matched his friend's grin with a smug smirk. "Of course we can," he boasted. He rose to his feet and moved into Vegeta's trademark fighting stance and started trying to copy everything he had just seen.

A second later he was joined by Goten and the two of them did their best to mirror Vegeta's every move. It wasn't long before Vegeta noticed the two boys and stopped to watch them as they performed _his_ kata. His kata that blended dozens of alien techniques no earthling had ever witnessed. The same kata that pieced together the ancient royal kata of the House of Vegeta with influences from over a hundred different civilizations' greatest warriors. His own unique moves were mimicked impeccably as the boys bounced across the yard of Capsule Corp. His jaw went slack as his eyes followed them.

He shook his head to clear his mind and then scowled. "Boys!" he barked. "Get over here!"

Trunks and Goten immediately stopped mid-kick and in a flash they were standing at attention in front of the flame-haired saiyan prince. "What's up, Dad?" Trunks asked.

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at them. "What do you think you're doing, brats?"

Goten grinned and scratched the back of his head. "We were trying to do what you were doing, Uncle Vegeta!"

Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. They were copying his kata. After seeing the whole thing _one_ time, they were executing it to perfection when it took him years to develop it. The phrase 'monkey see, monkey do' ran through his mind with a trace of amusement. He wasn't going to tell them that he was impressed with their ability to copy him. If anything, he was slightly aggravated that they could do it so easily. What was it about hybrids that seemed to give them a natural affinity for fighting that pure-blooded saiyans lacked? They may not have the same desire for battle, but they took to it well enough.

"You will not make a mockery of my kata," Vegeta grumbled with a sigh of resignation. "I'll teach you how to do it properly if you insist on learning it."

Both demi-saiyans jumped in the air with fists raised as they cheered their good fortune. They knew it was going to be intense training with the pureblood, but if there was one thing they wanted – for the moment, at least – it was to learn his kata well. So, for the next three hours Vegeta explained the different moves that were difficult for the boys to emulate, and by the end of their training, they were able to keep up with him as he went through the entire kata. They were quite pleased with themselves, and secretly Vegeta was pleased too.

They were sitting in the grass stretching after their prolonged workout when a yellow hovercar pulled into the driveway of the compound and a blue-haired woman stepped out. Bulma was back from the headquarters building where she spent the day in long, boring meetings. She breathed with relief when she saw the compound still standing, having spent all day worried that Vegeta would allow the two demon spawn to run rampant and destroy the place while he trained, oblivious, in the gravity room.

"Hey, it's your mom!" Goten exclaimed to Trunks when he saw Bulma approaching them.

Trunks glanced over and turned when he saw his father moving in his peripheral vision. What he saw was not surprising in the least. He had simply stood up and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest and lifted his chin so he could look down his nose at anyone, regardless of their height. It was his classic pose, the one everyone knew and loved. Well, at least knew.

Smirking, Trunks stood and crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin as his mother drew closer. His smirk broadened when Goten got up and did the exact same. They still had a lot to learn about being cool from Vegeta, but it was obvious they were already well on the way to awesomeness.

Bulma raised her eyebrow when she saw Vegeta and his two little shadows standing next to him. All three were drenched in sweat, which led her to believe they must have been training together. Why they were outside, though, was anyone's guess. She turned her attention to the tallest of the three and demanded an explanation with her eyes.

"What, Woman?" Vegeta drawled arrogantly when he saw her questioning gaze.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"Training."

She rolled her eyes. That much was obvious. "Why outside? Someone could have seen you flying around."

It was Vegeta's turn to roll his eyes. Beside him, two pairs of eyes rolled along with his. Bulma didn't miss the cynical gesture as the boys imitated it. She quirked an eyebrow but didn't comment on it.

"Whatever. Go make dinner, Woman," Vegeta said as he stalked across the yard and went back inside, presumably to shower before dinner was ready.

Bulma watched him go with fury in her eyes. Sometimes his arrogant attitude really grated on her nerves, especially when she had a long day at work. She sighed and gazed down at the two boys who were watching the saiyan make his retreat. They seemed very intent on their observation.

"Boys," she interrupted their trance-like state, "Go inside and get cleaned up."

Trunks frowned and raised his eyebrow for a fraction of a second in a very Vegeta-like manner. "Don't tell me what to do, Woman," he growled as he turned on his heel and went inside.

Bulma was left gaping as her little boy, so young and innocent, talked to her like his jerk of a father. She could hardly believe what she just heard. As if seeking confirmation that her ears weren't betraying her, she turned to Goten, who was still posed with his chin up and arms crossed.

Goten was having a harder time with this task than Trunks had. He felt guilty as he frowned and said coldly, "I require nourishment, Woman." He, like Vegeta and then Trunks, turned and strode back into the compound without another word.

Oh, now she was mad. "Vegeta!"

The saiyan heard his mate's scream from outside and shook his head. What was her problem this time? He shrugged and finished his shower in peace.

_A/N: Not the best, I'll admit, but I'm fighting writer's block! I'm sorry! I've been working on this one for a while and finally got it done._


	6. Guilt

Guilt

The sound of the backdoor of the Capsule Corporation compound slamming shut was followed by the rapid footsteps of a young warrior and the hysterical sobs of a distraught woman. The footsteps faded and the sobbing died down as another woman's gentle voice drifted through the kitchen as she consoled her heartbroken friend.

"There, there, Chi, it'll be ok. You know he wanted it this way," Bulma said, trying to comfort the very pregnant brunette woman.

Chichi choked back a sob and nodded, but her face was still contorted in the most forlorn expression her friend had ever seen. "I know, Bulma. I've – I've tried to accept that. But I can't stand what it's doing to Go-Gohan." She broke down in another bout of tears at the thought of her poor baby bearing the guilt of his father's death.

Bulma knelt down next to Chichi's chair and soothingly rubbed her back. There was little she could do or say for the poor widow. It was the second time her husband died, but unlike last time, there was no hope of him eventually returning. This time, he chose to stay dead for good. In a way, Bulma thought he was being horribly selfish, choosing to have his adventure in Otherworld instead of coming home to his family. At the same time, though, she knew he made his choice with the well-being of the whole world in mind. Selfish and selfless at the same time, Goku was dead forever.

'Poor Chichi. And poor Gohan. He's only a boy, it's not right for his father to leave him when he's still so young. And Chichi's going to have a baby who will never know his father because he's gone.' Bulma shook her head sadly and pulled Chichi into an embrace.

The quiet moment was interrupted when the kitchen door flew open and the saiyan prince stalked in, glaring at the two women as if whatever problem he had was because of them. "Would someone care to tell me why that brat is outside sulking again?"

Bulma stood up and scowled at her mate. "He's upset that his father passed away, you inconsiderate jerk! It's not like he's causing you any trouble, why should you care where he chooses to do his 'sulking?'"

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and sneered at the blue-haired woman. The boy was causing him plenty of trouble, as a matter of fact! He was outside, lying in the backyard, minding his own business, when the clown's whelp came outside crying like a girl with his ki spiking and dropping erratically with his ridiculous human emotions. It was more than enough to grate on the prince's nerves and he wanted to get the harpy and her brat out of his home so he could have some peace for a change. Ever since the damned woman found out she was with child she came to the compound nearly every day to lament her horrible lot in life. And the brat wasn't much better, often throwing tantrums, brooding around the compound, and for some completely unknown reason seeking consolation from him from time to time. He didn't care that the brat was upset about his father's death, he had more important things to worry about! Like… how much _he_ wished the third-class clown wasn't dead.

"I care because his ki is completely unstable and it is driving me crazy!" he snapped.

Bulma threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. Leave it to Vegeta to only think of himself. Couldn't he see that the Sons were heartbroken? Didn't he care at all how _they_ felt? 'Dumb question,' she thought bitterly. 'He doesn't give a damn about Chichi or Gohan.'

"Well, then, Vegeta," she hissed through clenched teeth, "Why don't you go see if you can cheer him up and maybe his ki will settle down and you can go back to whatever you were doing before he so _thoughtlessly_ ruined your day!" She knew as well as he did that he hadn't been doing anything important before Chichi's visit. Every day he went through the exact same routine, spending the whole morning lying in the backyard gazing up at the sky, lost in thought. Then after lunch – where he hardly ate much of anything, even for a human – he went back to his private room and sat on the edge of his bed staring at the wall until it was too dark to see. He was mourning too, in his own way. She knew that's what he was doing, but there was no possible way to get him to admit it. He missed 'Kakarrot.' Or at least he missed having another living full-blooded saiyan around.

"Why would I waste my time on that brat?" he asked quietly. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and glowered at the polished tile floor.

Bulma understood that he wasn't looking for an answer when he asked that question. He wasn't asking because he resented the idea of making Gohan feel better, he was asking because he had no comfort to give. She knew that, had he the ability to make Gohan cheer up, he would do it, if only to save himself from having to feel the boy's ki rising and falling with his turbulent emotions. He mentioned a few times how irritating it was, so she already knew how much it bothered him when Gohan came with Chichi to visit.

"Vegeta," Bulma said, taking his arm and guiding him out of the kitchen. "Look. Gohan's been feeling pretty bad about Goku dying. He's blaming himself for his death. Now, we both know that's not true, but he thinks it is. Maybe you can convince him otherwise? You were there, you know what really happened."

Vegeta looked at her incredulously. Kakarrot's death wasn't his son's fault? In what universe? He _was_ there and _did_ see what happened. It was Gohan's fault his father died _and_ it was his fault that Mirai Trunks was killed – though he was brought back to life. Vegeta would not forgive Gohan for his recklessness when he was fighting Cell. Had he listened to the others, his father would still be alive because he wouldn't have had to sacrifice himself when Cell got desperate and decided to blow up the whole planet.

He shook his head. He knew the truth as well as the boy. The idiot clown was dead because his son was too foolish to finish Cell off when he had the chance. He would not lie to the boy and tell him that wasn't true. It wasn't his style to sugarcoat or bury the truth under lies and half-truths. Damn right it was the boy's fault. He _should_ be feeling the burden of guilt.

"Woman, you give the boy too much credit," he snarled as he stalked out of the compound to return to his spot in the yard where he spent hours looking up at the clear blue sky.

Gohan was seated in the freshly cut grass when he heard the door swing open and slam shut. He didn't have to open his eyes to know who it was. He could feel the older warrior's ki from a mile away. He sighed when he felt it drawing closer, fearing the saiyan prince would come demanding a spar or give some other absurd command. With such low expectations, he was shocked when he felt Vegeta's ki right next to him, then heard him sit down. He cracked one eye open and looked over at the flame-haired saiyan. He was looking up at the sky, just as he always was when Gohan saw him outside.

"The woman told me you're upset that your father is dead."

Gohan was confused by Vegeta's blunt statement, but that confusion was soon replaced with a burning rage. "Of course I'm upset that he's dead! He was my father and I killed him!"

Vegeta snorted at the boy's temper. "So what if you did, brat? You can't change it now."

"If this is some attempt at making me feel better," Gohan growled, "you're failing miserably. Leave me alone, Vegeta."

"You will shut your mouth and listen to what I have to say, boy," Vegeta barked. He finally turned to the boy, challenging him to interrupt again. Gohan could see anger burning in his obsidian eyes and decided to back down.

Seeing the boy's submission, Vegeta turned back to the sky and proceeded with what he came to say. "You think you're so terrible for killing your father? You think it's your fault that he's dead? I'm not going to lie to you and say that it isn't. Yes, it is your fault that fool Kakarrot is dead. It's your fault you got too damn arrogant and refused to kill Cell when he told you to. It's your fault Cell got desperate and hatched his stupid plan to blow up the Earth. So it's your fault Kakarrot had to be the ultimate kami-damned hero and give his life to save everyone.

"Your harpy mother thinks you're too young to feel such a load of responsibility. You're too damn young to feel the guilt you do because your idiot father is dead. I say that is a load of shit."

Gohan's eyes shot back to the prince, his mouth working but no sound coming out. He wanted to argue. He wanted to yell at Vegeta for speaking of his father so disrespectfully. He wanted more than anything to make the pain go away, the pain that Vegeta was only making worse by digging up the thoughts he was trying so hard to bury in the deepest recesses of his mind.

"Hold your tongue, boy," Vegeta growled. "I told you I'm not going to comfort you. I'm telling you the truth. And here it is: You think your life, simply put, sucks. You think you don't deserve to go on living when your fool father is gone. You think it should have been you who died fighting Cell. Maybe it should have been. It's not my place to say. You could go on feeling sorry for yourself either way, or you could get over it and move on with life. You're still alive, he's not. Whether or not it's your fault, there's nothing you can do about it."

"You can't just expect me to act as if nothing happened!" Gohan shouted, his fists clenching in his lap.

Vegeta's lip curled in a snarl, silencing the young demi-saiyan. "No, you can never act as if nothing happened. But you want to know a secret, boy? The pain. Never. Heals. Never. So you can choose to live moping around your whole life or you can choose to go on living without him."

"But I miss him so much," he whimpered. He felt hot tears stinging his eyes and tightly closed his eyes to hold them back. He couldn't allow himself to cry in front of Vegeta.

"Get up, brat."

"Huh?"

Vegeta stood up and crossed his arms over his chest while he waited for Gohan to get to his feet as well. When the boy was standing in front of him, he backhanded him, knocking him back to the ground.

Gohan wiped his bloody lip with the back of his hand and glared up at the prince. "What was that for?" he demanded.

"Get up."

Angrily, Gohan pushed himself back up to his feet. As soon as he was upright, Vegeta spun into a roundhouse kick and floored him again.

"Get up."

As if a fire had been ignited in his gut, Gohan roared as he jumped back to his feet, full of blinding fury. When Vegeta swung his fist at him, he caught his hand and retaliated with his own punch, which Vegeta caught. Gohan roared again and tried to break free, but Vegeta held onto him and wouldn't let him out of his grasp. He blocked the kicks sent his way and waited for the boy's anger to burn out.

"I hate you! Kami, I hate you!" Gohan shouted. "I hate you, I hate you!"

"Like I give a damn," Vegeta muttered. He waited until Gohan's resistance stopped and tears started flowing down his flushed cheeks. He let go of the demi-saiyan's hands and watched him crumple to the ground, his body wracked with deep sobs of grief.

"I hate you, Vegeta, I hate you," Gohan mumbled as if it were a mantra.

Vegeta knelt down next to Gohan and roughly grabbed his hair to lift his head and make him face him. "No, who you hate is yourself. You're turning your hatred out on me because I'm making you feel the things you've been trying to suppress for months."

Gohan swung his fist at Vegeta again, but like last time it was caught in the prince's hand. He growled in frustrated and pounded his other fist against the ground.

"I know what you feel, boy," Vegeta whispered, barely audible over Gohan's sobbing. "I know because I, too, am responsible for my father's death. Indirectly or not, I killed him. You think your life is so horrible? At least your brainless father _chose_ death! My father died trying to save me, just as yours did. The fools. I was eight years old when he died. Eight years old when my father, my people, and my kingdom were taken from me. Do not cry to me about how unfair it is that your father is dead. I survived, and so will you. Stop this foolishness and get on with your life."

An uncomfortable silence fell over them for a few moments while Gohan mulled over what Vegeta told him. He never thought about how he _wasn't_ alone in his feelings. About how there _was_ someone else out there who understood what he was going through. He never thought that it was Vegeta of all people who could bring his thoughts and feelings to the surface where he was forced to deal with them. Yes, deal with them when he had tried so hard for so long to ignore them.

"Th-thank you, Vegeta," Gohan mumbled.

"Hn." Vegeta released his hold on the boy's hair and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest as he stalked back into the compound to find a more secluded location.

Gohan watched the saiyan go before he disappeared inside. He was stunned into silence, stunned that the prince would speak to him about his own past. He was shocked at how much he actually did have in common with the callous warrior and hoped he wouldn't become like that when he was older. Mostly, though, he was surprised at how much better he felt after his little 'talk' with Vegeta. He was forced to recognize what he was feeling and why he was feeling it, and for the first time, he wasn't lied to about whether he was at fault for his father's death. The truth hurt, but the lies his friends and family told him were more unbearable.

His methods were a little unorthodox, but Vegeta helped Gohan start the healing process.

_A/N: Not much to say. But I do want reviews._


	7. Discipline

Discipline

It was a balmy summer morning when the Capsule Corporation jet landed in the dewy valley near Mount Paozu. Vegeta sneered at the small house on the top of a hill as they touched down, not at all pleased to be spending the entire day in the home of the shrill-voiced harpy and the sons of his deceased rival. Behind him, his six-year-old son was bouncing in the back seat excitedly, chattering incessantly about all the games he was going to play with the Son brats and all the food he was going to eat at lunch. Next to him, his mate giggled as she unbuckled her safety belt and turned off the engine. Clearly she was pleased about this visit as well. Rolling his eyes, he opened the door and stepped out of the small jet.

He inhaled deeply, the permanent scowl on his face easing slightly as his lungs filled with the fresh air, unpolluted by factories, cars, and garbage. At least there were some minor benefits to coming to Mount Paozu, though he was still irritated by the company. With a sigh of defeat, he turned and followed his mate and brat to the house. The front door was already open with the harpy leaning against the doorframe, stirring something in a mixing bowl as she watched them approach. He could see the younger of the two brats jumping up and down behind her, obviously eager to see Trunks.

Apparently Trunks saw the same thing because he dropped the act of nonchalance and started a mad dash to the door, ready to bulldoze over anything that might get in his way – including Chi-Chi. Frankly, Vegeta didn't care about the annoying woman's welfare, but he didn't approve of such behavior from his son, so he reached down and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"Don't even think about it, boy," Vegeta growled, dropping his lavender-haired son on the ground next to him.

Trunks looked up at his father, hurt flashing in his blue orbs. "What, Dad? I wasn't doing anything!"

Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest. "You were going to run over there, knock the harpy down, and make a fool of yourself and your entire family."

"Sorry." Trunks stood up and patted the dirt off his shorts before resuming his walk to the house, no longer showing any hurry. By the time he and Vegeta reached the door, Bulma had already greeted Chi-Chi and gone inside.

"Trunks, you're here!" Goten shouted when they finally came inside. Excitement rolled off the young boy in waves as he tackled his friend. As they rolled around on the floor wrestling, Vegeta stepped over them and crossed the room to sit on the couch.

Chi-Chi closed the door and sighed when she saw the two boys already roughhousing, but she didn't comment on it as she skirted around them and went into the kitchen where Bulma was already seated at the table. She set down her mixing bowl and slumped into the chair across from the blue-haired woman.

"Everything okay, Chi?" Bulma asked.

Chi-Chi nodded slowly, not entirely convincing her guest that her answer was true. She looked horribly tired, with stray hairs frizzing out at odd angles from her bun, dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and her skin an almost sickly pallor. "I'm fine, just didn't get much sleep last night." She sighed again, adding to herself mentally, 'Or the night before that, or the night before that…'

Bulma frowned a little. "You know you can tell me if anything's wrong. I'd like to help if you need anything. Here, let me make you some tea." She stood up and went over to the sink, filling a tea kettle with water and putting it on the stove to boil.

"Thanks, Bulma," Chi-Chi mumbled. "I'm okay, it's just been hard working to earn a little extra money while I'm raising two half-saiyans."

"But Gohan is so well-behaved," Bulma said, hoping her praise would cheer up her friend. Chi-Chi wasn't always the easiest woman to get along with, but everyone knew she had her family's best interest in mind and prided herself on raising her sons to be gentlemen.

Chi-Chi smiled weakly as she pulled the mixing bowl over to her and continued stirring. "Gohan is, yes."

The blue-haired woman quirked an eyebrow. "And Goten?"

"Isn't."

It really was hard for Bulma not to chuckle at that. Goten visited Capsule Corporation enough for her to know he was rather rambunctious. More than Gohan ever did, he reminded Bulma of Goku when he was young. Wild at heart and terribly naïve, he seemed to find trouble wherever he went and he willingly followed Trunks into any mischief he could think up. While she didn't believe it was bad for a little boy to be playful and lively, she did appreciate solid discipline, which was why she kept Vegeta around some of the time. Yes, she knew discipline was good, but it was so hard for her to dish it out sometimes. But the strict saiyan prince didn't allow too much foolishness. She was lucky, really, to have a mate who could give rewards and punishment so well. That was what Chi-Chi was lacking; of course she had always been the disciplinarian when Goku was alive, but now that he was gone she simply didn't have the time or energy to keep Goten under her thumb as she had with Gohan.

"Well," Bulma said, trying to lighten the mood, "you remember how Goku was when he was a kid. I'm sure Goten will grow into a good man like him even if he is a little wild now."

Chi-Chi shook her head. "I'm not worried that he won't be _good_, I'm worried that he'll end up like Goku without an education or a job and unable to ever really settle down. I train him, you know, when I have time, but that's all he ever wants to do! Gohan was never like that. He kept his nose in the books, and you know he's going to get into a good school and be a real scholar someday. But Goten, I can't get him to finish a single lesson before he's begging to play again."

"You know you can't expect them to be exactly the same."

The young widow opened her mouth to reply when the kitchen door burst open and two young demi-saiyans crashed into the room. Trunks threw Goten across the room, knocking a pile of unwashed dishes onto the floor, shattering them. The boys didn't seem to notice as Goten lunged at Trunks, pushing him back out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Bulma glanced at Chi-Chi, feeling pain for the poor woman as she saw tears welling up in her eyes. No doubt this was a common occurrence, but she couldn't imagine how frustrating it must be.

"Brats!"

Jumping out of their chairs, the two women raced across the kitchen to see what was going on in the living room. They stopped at the doorway, nearly falling over each other when they saw Vegeta standing in the middle of the room holding a demi-saiyan in each hand. Bulma giggled a little, but Chi-Chi gaped at him as she watched.

Vegeta glared at his son, holding him at eye level. "What have I told you about fighting in the house?" he snarled.

Trunks laughed nervously. "Um, don't do it?"

The flame-haired saiyan's eye twitched with irritation. "That's right, boy. Don't do it. So _why_ were you fighting in the house?"

"Because it's not _our_ house. I thought the rule only applied to home," Trunks explained.

"Well, let's amend that rule then, shall we?" Vegeta dropped Trunks, who landed on his feet. "No fighting in _any_ house. Since you seem to want to fight so bad, you're going to train with me for an hour when we get home. Got it, boy?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go outside." Vegeta held Goten out at arm's length after Trunks ran out of the house. "And you, brat. I highly doubt you're allowed to fight indoors. You have no proper training facilities here."

Goten shook his head so fast he made himself dizzy. "Mommy says I'm not allowed to, but she never stops me when I do so I thought it wasn't too bad or she'd yell at me."

"Yes, I'm sure that excuses everything," Vegeta said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "If I hear you're fighting in this house or any other house on this kamiforsaken planet, I am going to lock you in the gravity room for a day, and I won't give you any provisions."

"What's provisions?" Goten asked innocently.

"Food."

Vegeta snorted when the boy's bottom lip started quivering. The brat definitely wasn't a hard one to punish; all it took was a threat to not feed him and he would obey any rule without question, even if Trunks assured him the rule was frivolous. Considering the discussion over, Vegeta dropped Goten on the floor and pointed to the door. "Out."

Nodding like a bobble-head, Goten picked himself up off the floor and practically flew to the front door to go find Trunks outside. His Uncle Vegeta hadn't said they couldn't fight outdoors, so he was eager to pick up where they left off. And, despite the threat to go without food for a day, he was excited that the full-blooded saiyan gave so much attention to him, almost as much as Trunks.

Once the front door slammed shut behind the youngest Son, Vegeta sat down on the couch again, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at the dark TV screen on the opposite side of the room. His reflection stared back at him. So far his visit to the Son residence had been all he expected and more: nothing but a headache with noisy brats running around causing chaos.

Bulma slipped back into the kitchen after the boys disappeared. She felt that Vegeta had, perhaps, been a little hard on the boys, but then that was why she left the discipline up to him. He was harsh, but fair. Ever since they could walk, Trunks and Goten had been taught that they needed to be mindful of their superhuman strength and speed, especially when interacting with people who weren't, such as their mothers. Still, they were young and excitable and frequently forgot the need for caution. And really, she couldn't blame Vegeta for his sour mood. She knew he hated coming to Mount Paozu, or leaving Capsule Corporation in general. Knowing this, she was impressed that he showed as much restraint with the boys as he did.

Chi-Chi didn't immediately follow Bulma back into the kitchen. She never cared for Vegeta, but for once she felt a bit of gratitude for his gruff, antisocial attitude. Taking a deep breath, she walked around the couch so she could face him, nervously clinching her skirt in her hands as she met his dark gaze.

"What?" he snapped when she stood there staring at him for a moment too long.

She bit her lip before exhaling slowly and telling him, "I wanted to thank you, Vegeta. For handling the boys. I – I can't really keep Goten under control, and, well… that's all, I guess. Thanks."

"Hn."

The brunette nodded curtly before going back to the kitchen and sitting down at the table again. Bulma was on the other side of the kitchen preparing her cup of tea. "Is he always like that with them?"

"Hm? Oh, you mean Vegeta?" Bulma picked up the steaming cup of tea and carried it over to the table, setting it down in front of Chi-Chi. "He's not _always_ so, er, rough with them, but yes, he tries to keep them in line. Says they have to act like saiyans and whatnot."

Chi-Chi cracked her first real smile of the day. "Sounds like something he'd say."

"You're not upset with him, are you? I mean, it's not really his place to punish Goten like that…"

"No, no! I'm glad he did. Goten listens to him more than he does to me." Sighing, she took a sip of tea.

The older woman didn't miss the hint of bitterness in Chi-Chi's voice. Yes, Goten certainly did listen to Vegeta, always heeding his warnings and threats and doing everything he could to please the saiyan. It had to be hard on Chi-Chi knowing her baby boy respected a man she hated more than he respected her.

"Gohan tries, you know? He tries to be the man of the house, and he does his best to get Goten to behave, but they're still brothers. Gohan lets him get away with more than he should and I just can't do it." Chi-Chi looked down into her tea, the steam curling through the air and warming her haggard face. "He just – he needs a father, Bulma. And I can't give him that."

Bulma looked over at the kitchen door, imagining her mate still sitting on the couch, still scowling at his reflection on the TV screen, still refusing to socialize. "You're right, Chi. But you know Vegeta can. He's strict, and he does follow through on his threats, but I think it's good for them. He understands saiyans better even than Goku did, so maybe letting him discipline the boys is a good idea. And you really can't expect Gohan to do that. He's _not _Goten's father and shouldn't have to act like he is."

"Forgive me, but I don't want my son to turn out like Vegeta."

Laughing, Bulma shook her head. "Don't worry about that, Chi. That's about as likely to happen as Gohan ever earning a B in school. Where is Gohan, anyway? I haven't seen him yet."

Chi-Chi smiled proudly. "He's in his room studying. I told him if he finishes before lunch he can take the rest of the day off."

"How…nice."

Later, when it was close to lunchtime and the two women were setting the table for a feast large enough to feed an army or a small group of saiyans, Gohan emerged from his bedroom and passed through the living room, nodding a silent greeting to Vegeta. The saiyan prince didn't bother acknowledging him, but Gohan never expected a response anyway. He walked into the kitchen and hugged Bulma.

"Hey there, Gohan," Bulma said. "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine," he replied, somewhat distracted. His attention was more on the meal being laid out on the table than small talk.

"Gohan, sweetie," Chi-Chi said, "did you finish your studies?"

"Yeah, Mom." Gohan snatched a dumpling when her back was turned and popped it in his mouth, holding his finger to his lips as a gesture to Bulma to keep quiet about it.

Chi-Chi turned around, frowning sternly as she set a steaming bowl of rice on the table. She didn't have to see his action to know he did it. "Good. Would you go outside and get Goten and Trunks?"

Nodding, Gohan turned on his heel and left the kitchen. He glanced over at Vegeta on his way to the front door, noting how he was in the exact same position as before with the exact same scowl on his face. He shrugged to himself as he went outside and cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling, "Goten, Trunks! Lunch is ready!"

No more than three seconds later two small demi-saiyans crashed into him, bowling him over in their excitement to see him and eagerness to eat lunch. Gohan fell to the ground and shoved them off, standing up and patting the dirt off his pants. He frowned disapprovingly before cracking a grin that exactly replicated his father's. "What have you two been up to?"

Goten could barely contain his excitement as he told his brother, "Me and Trunks were fighting inside and you won't guess what happened! Uncle Vegeta told me he'd lock _me_ in the gravity room without food! Isn't that awesome? He only ever says that to Trunks!"

Gohan raised an eyebrow as he led the two boys back inside. "That's great, Goten, I guess."

"Uh huh!" Goten ran in circles around Gohan as he walked toward the kitchen. "Mom used to yell at me and tell me she'd do mean things, but she never does anymore."

The eldest demi-saiyan wondered why his brother would _want_ to be given threats for disobedience, but shrugged it off. Most likely he thought it was a positive thing since Trunks received threats and warnings from both his parents on a regular basis. If anything, Goten probably thought he was missing out on something spectacular since their own mother had become more lenient – with Goten, at least.

"Guess you'd better behave when Vegeta's around then, huh Squirt?"

Goten shook his head vigorously. "Not just when he's here! He said if he ever heard about me fighting in any house in the whole world he'd lock me in the gravity room!"

Now indoors, Gohan glanced over at the couch where the full-blooded saiyan had been sitting a minute earlier. The couch was now empty, so Vegeta must have already gone in to the kitchen. His gaze moved around the room. It looked like a whirlwind blew through, no doubt the devastation caused by the two boys now trailing on his heels. Not for the first time, he wondered how his mother put up with it, constantly having to repair or replace furniture and decorations, cleaning up the messes the boys made, all the while trying to cook meals and keep up with her regular housekeeping.

He thought that perhaps it _was_ a good thing Vegeta took the initiative to punish both Goten and Trunks. Honestly, he was surprised that the saiyan prince cared enough to say anything about the boys' behavior, but if it would give his mother a break, he could appreciate the harsh style of discipline for his little brother. To his even greater surprise, he felt a sense of relief when he opened the kitchen door and saw the two youngsters immediately sober up when they came into Vegeta's presence. If Vegeta was willing to be a disciplinarian for both of them, it was a burden off his shoulders. Much as he wanted to help his mother out, he just couldn't be a father figure for Goten. Let Vegeta take that responsibility. He was more fit for the role anyway.

_A/N: Yeah, it's been a long, long time since I updated this. So, when I started losing the drive to write my other stories, I figured I'd write something for this. One-shots often get the creativity flowing again. This chapter was inspired by my bulldog puppy, a little troublemaker much like Goten in need of some serious discipline._


	8. Interview

Interview

Chi-Chi stared at the phone in her hand, almost laughing when she saw it trembling slightly. What was she so nervous about? There was nothing to be afraid of because, well, she always got her way with _everyone_. Even him. She inhaled deeply and slowly released her breath, trying to coax herself into a state of calm before dialing the number she knew by heart. It wasn't a number she called often, but it was one of the more important ones. Finally, she dialed and held the phone to her ear, each ring increasing her anxiety until she thought she would snap.

"Capsule Corporation, this is Bulma Brief speaking."

Chi-Chi smiled as relief flooded through her. She had hoped she would reach the blue-haired heiress without having to go through a team of secretaries and assistants. "Hi, Bulma, it's Chi-Chi."

"Chich! How are you? Is everything okay?"

The raven-haired woman smiled, nodding, though she knew Bulma couldn't see it. "Everything is fine, Bulma. It's just there's one little thing I was hoping you could help me with…"

"Sure, Chi, anything. What is it?"

Clearing her throat, Chi-Chi started, "Well, you see, Gohan is seventeen now and I was hoping to enroll him in public school. I already have one in mind, but I was thinking maybe it would be helpful if he had a, um, sort of father during the interview."

There was a short silence, then a soft chuckle. "So in other words you want Vegeta to pretend to be Gohan's father?"

Chi-Chi's face flushed a deep crimson. She was glad Bulma wasn't there with her to see it. "I know it's probably not necessary, but, you see, since I'm a single mother and I don't have a job, they may be concerned about me being able to afford to send him to school there. I thought maybe if they saw that he has a, well, we could say a godfather or something, especially one who has such a…wealthy background, you know?"

Bulma nodded sagely in agreement. "You're probably right. Well, I can't promise you anything, but I'll talk to him tonight. I'll give you a call in the morning to tell you what he says, okay?"

"Thanks, Bulma."

"No problem." Bulma hung up the phone and sighed heavily. She did understand where Chi-Chi was coming from, but how was she going to get Vegeta to understand? How would she get him to care? She had her work cut out for her, but she wanted to help Chi-Chi out, especially for Gohan's benefit.

That evening Bulma stopped Vegeta before he could leave after dinner to train. She held onto his wrist with an unbreakable grip and looked up at him pleadingly. "Wait, Vegeta, I have something I need to talk to you about."

"What?" he groaned. He never liked the phrase 'something I need to talk to you about.' It almost always ended badly for him. Still, he allowed her to speak, deciding it was best to hear her out before angering her with a definite 'No.'

Bulma stood up and led him to the living room where they could have some privacy from Trunks and her parents. She smiled at him, hoping to ease the tension that had already grown. "It's about Chi-Chi and Gohan, actually," she said.

"No." He turned to walk out of the room, but she stepped in front of him to block his path. Though he could have easily gone around her, he halted and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her as he waited for her to make her case to convince him to reconsider.

"It's nothing really big, she was just hoping you would go with them to an interview at a high school where she's hoping to have Gohan enrolled. You know, act as a supportive godfather or something. Someone who will be able to help out financially if they need it and all that. Really all you have to do is show up. You don't have to gush over how wonderful Gohan is."

Vegeta's eyebrow slowly rose through her explanation. "You want me to what?" He snorted, and, shaking his head, pushed her aside to make his exit.

"Just think about it!" she called after him. She knew by his expression that he hadn't completely decided his final answer would be a negative. Shrugging, she went back to the kitchen to sit down and talk with her family. As busy as she had been at Capsule Corporation lately, she hadn't had much quality time with her parents or son for a while.

Vegeta cranked up the gravity to train under, hoping to clear his mind and rationally weigh the pros and cons of helping the banshee and Kakarrot's eldest. As much as he tried to reason he didn't care about the boy, there was at least some level of respect for him. After all, he had proven himself a capable warrior several times over despite his youth and lack of experience. And he had also helped with babysitting his wild son several times when he thought he was going to lose his mind if he didn't get the little brat out of the house for a few hours of peace. He didn't feel he owed the Son family anything, but as his woman said, he wouldn't have to do anything but show up. But wouldn't that act alone show he _cared_? He most certainly did not.

Bulma hadn't even threatened him – not that her threats were ever enough to sway him one way or another. Usually they only made him more stubborn since he resented her attempts to force him into doing anything he didn't want to do. No sex? Fine, he'd lived without it for much longer than she was ever willing to withhold it from him. No food? He could leave and hunt wild game if he had to. No gravity room? Though he preferred the increased gravity and harsher conditions, he could still train without it. Really there was nothing she could threaten him with that would persuade him to change his mind once it was made up. Maybe she was finally learning that out about him… Either way, she hadn't threatened him, so he wasn't sure how important this was to her. Obviously it mattered to a degree or she wouldn't have bothered interceding on the harpy's behalf. But did it matter to him? He didn't give a damn about human education. It was pitiful to say the least.

That night when he stopped training and returned to the bedroom he shared with his mate, he saw she was still awake, sitting up in bed reading a book. No doubt waiting for him to come in so she could ask him what he'd decided. Ignoring her for the moment, he went into the bathroom and stripped off his clothes before getting in the shower. More time to think as the hot water relaxed his aching muscles and washed away the day's sweat and blood.

He owed the Sons nothing. But wasn't this the perfect opportunity to make them owe _him_ something? Perhaps demanding a spar with the boy, or making the harpy agree to let Trunks stay over at their house for a whole week. Or longer. Maybe he could make a deal to not let the younger third-class brat over for a month. Or longer. He shrugged. There were many options available. If this was really as big a deal as it surely had to be if Kakarrot's harpy was willing to ask for _his_ help, she would probably be willing to strike about any deal with him he could imagine. He smirked as he finally reached his decision. Of course he'd help – for a price. It was really about what he could get out of the situation. Not because he wanted to help. Because he didn't care at all if the boy got into school or not.

Bulma looked up when she heard the bathroom door open. Vegeta was standing in the doorway leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk so wide it looked more like a twisted smile. She sighed; he found a way to turn an act of kindness into something worse. Not even wanting to meet his dark gaze, she focused on his bare chest. "So what'll it be?"

He huffed, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'll do it, but –"

"Only if Chi-Chi or Gohan agrees to something in return." Bulma rolled her eyes. "Figures."

He shrugged again, unconcerned with her irritation. "It could be of benefit to both of us. No brats running around the house for a week sounds good."

Bulma's eyes shot up to his obsidian orbs. "For a week?"

Vegeta chuckled as he strutted over to the bed and flipped the covers back, dropped the towel from around his waist, and slid into bed. "Of course, if you'd rather me _help_ without asking for anything in return…"

"I don't see anything wrong with it," she replied quickly. "But make it two weeks."

The saiyan prince chuckled as he pulled his mate into his arms and nipped her neck, eliciting a soft moan of desire. "Whatever you say, Woman."

The next morning Bulma called Chi-Chi before breakfast, eager to tell her the terms of Vegeta's agreement. She dialed the number of the Son household and only had to wait one and a half rings before someone picked up on the other end.

"Hello, Bulma?"

Bulma laughed, knowing Chi-Chi had been waiting all morning for the call. She really was intent on having Vegeta agree to this. "Yeah, Chi. So here's what Vegeta said. He'll play Gohan's godfather for the interview _if_ you'll let Trunks stay over with Goten for two whole weeks."

Vegeta snorted, rolling his eyes when he heard his mate blame him for the terms of the deal. He would have been content with one week. It was she who decided it should be two. But whatever, let her blame it on him. Make him out to be the bad guy. He was used to it, and everyone expected any unreasonable demands to be his.

Chi-Chi barely hesitated before agreeing. "Sure, that's fine, Bulma. Oh, thank you so much! You're the best! The interview is Thursday morning at 9:15 – Orange Star High School. In Satan City, can you believe they named a city after that oaf?"

Bulma jotted down the place and time on a notepad, only half-listening as Chi-Chi rambled on about the idiot Mr. Satan and how he stole the fame and glory from her wonderful son and making a mockery of her husband's death. Finally, she cut her off, saying, "Yeah, Chi, I know. Well, I need to eat breakfast and get to work, so I'll talk to you later, okay? I'll make sure Vegeta gets the information and I'll _try_ to get him to be on his best behavior. Bye!"

Hanging up, Bulma ripped the page off the notepad and carried it over to the table where Vegeta was eating his breakfast. She set it in front of him and pointed to the time. "Don't you dare forget, Vegeta, or I swear I'll make you sorry."

He grunted as he read the message. A few minutes later Trunks walked into the kitchen, stomach growling. He took his seat across the table from his parents and started piling food onto his plate. Bulma smiled at him sweetly. "Trunks, honey, how would you like to stay over at Goten's house for two weeks?"

The lavender-haired boy stared at her wide-eyed for a moment before a huge grin spread across his face. "Really? Two weeks?" Then he frowned and his eyes shifted over to his father. "This isn't some sort of trick, is it?"

"Of course not," Bulma assured him. "I'm not sure what day you'll be able to go, but I'll work it out with Chi-Chi. She's already said it would be okay."

"Awesome! Thanks, Mom!" Trunks' grin returned as he dove into his breakfast, eating with saiyan gusto and royal manners learned from his father. Bulma chuckled a little as she started eating her own breakfast. Now that Trunks knew he was going to be allowed to go to the Sons for two weeks there was no way Vegeta could back out of his end of the bargain. She felt rather smug, as if the whole thing had been her idea.

…

"Woman, why the hell would I have to wear that?" Vegeta grumbled. He looked over the suit she pulled out of the closet for him, sneering disdainfully. He wouldn't be caught dead in that.

Bulma sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Because, Vegeta, you have to dress nice for interviews. I don't care if you go and don't say a damn word through the whole thing, but you have to _look_ like you care, got it?" She didn't think the suit was so bad. It was navy blue and it was tailored to fit him nicely without making it unbearably comfortable.

He sniffed haughtily. The pants and shirt he could deal with, but the tie and jacket were too much. He didn't like things being tied around his neck and he didn't like how the jacket restricted the movement of his arms. He'd only worn it once before, and that was just to try it on after the woman had it made for him. Why anyone would want to wear such a terrible garment he would never know. He would sooner wear the pink shirt and neon green pants she gave him so many years ago than wear that suit. He was almost tempted to tell her so, too.

"Okay," she relented, knowing what was bothering him, "You don't have to wear the tie. _Now_ will you wear it?"

Vegeta's lip curled with barely restrained contempt. If he had known he would be required to wear a suit, he would have demanded the harpy take his son for at _least_ a month. Grudgingly he nodded. He wouldn't tell her he intended to lose the jacket as well by the time he reached the school. Ignoring her beaming grin, he put on the pants and shirt, fumbling with the buttons until he growled with irritation. Stupid, primitive devices!

Bulma laughed as she stood up and helped him with the buttons, cupping his face in her hands when she finished the last one. "Thanks for doing this, Vegeta." She kissed him softly and patted his shoulder. "You look nice."

"Hn." He picked up the jacket, never intending to wear it, and carried it downstairs with him. He didn't have much time to eat breakfast before he would need to leave. Satan City was miles away, but he could cross the distance quickly flying. But he wasn't allowed to fly all the way to the school. Bulma insisted he take a car capsule and drive once he reached city limits. He didn't like driving. He didn't want to drive. Just another reason he should have made it a month.

As soon as he was finished eating, he left the compound. He would be early, but he always figured it was better to be early than late. No doubt the harpy would agree. Looking to the left and right to make sure no one was around to see him defy gravity, he took to the air and headed east toward Satan City. It only took him ten minutes to reach the edge of the city after flying at a leisurely pace; once he was there, he landed on a quiet street and pulled the capsule out of his pocket and threw it on the ground. At least the car Bulma gave him was decent. A black hovercar with a sleek, aerodynamic build. Grumbling quietly he got in and headed toward the center of the city where the school was located.

By the time Vegeta reached the school, Chi-Chi and her sons were already waiting on a bench outside the principal's office. Without a word Vegeta leaned against the wall nearby, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at the opposite wall. The hall was silent aside from Chi-Chi occasionally hushing Goten when he would start making a fuss about something – hunger, boredom, questions about school, when Trunks was coming, or a bug he found the other day. For the most part Vegeta ignored them. He was there to pretend he was involved in their lives and get out as soon as possible.

After waiting about fifteen minutes, the principal's door opened and a balding man with broad shoulders and a gut that hung over his belt walked out and addressed the small family. "Good morning, Mrs. Son, Gohan. I'm Principal Kocho." He held out his hand first to Chi-Chi, then Gohan, then Vegeta. The saiyan prince looked at with a slight grimace before reluctantly shaking it. "And you must be Gohan's father?"

Vegeta almost snorted. "Godfather. The boy's father is dead."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Clearing his throat, he gestured for them to come into his office. There were only three chairs in front of his desk. Ignoring them, Vegeta again leaned against the wall, allowing Chi-Chi, Gohan, and Goten to each have a seat. Mr. Kocho walked around to his seat and opened a folder with a rather large packet of papers inside. "I've reviewed your application, Gohan, and I have to say you have a rather outstanding academic record."

"Thank you, sir," Gohan said. Chi-Chi gave a subtle nod of approval to her first-born. Vegeta rolled his eyes.

"However, I am worried about two things," Mr. Kocho added. "The first, unfortunately, is your financial situation, Mrs. Son. I couldn't help noticing you are unemployed, and if your husband is … deceased… I'm concerned you may not have the finances required for enrollment at Orange Star."

Chi-Chi had expected this to come up, but she hadn't thought it would be mentioned so early in the interview. She smiled nervously, folding her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. "I understand your concern, Mr. Kocho, but I assure you we do have the money. And," she paused, looking uneasily at Vegeta, "if we were to need help, Gohan's godfather, Vegeta, is willing to help financially."

Mr. Kocho looked at Vegeta, sitting back in his chair and appraising the strange-looking man. "If you don't mind my asking, Mr. uh…"

"Vegeta."

"Mr. Vegeta—"

"Just Vegeta," the prince snapped. "My financial situation is quite secure."

"You are presently employed?" Mr. Kocho prodded.

"No."

"Then how will you—"

Vegeta snarled a little, unable to fully hide his irritation. Finances were not one of his major concerns in life. He didn't want to tout how much money he had access to, nor did he want to reveal he was mated to Bulma Brief. Not only did he _not_ want to use his connections with anyone for his own benefit, but he didn't want any more questions being asked about himself or his family.

Chi-Chi cut in, "Mr. Kocho, sir, Vegeta comes from a multi-billion zeni family." She tried to keep the envy out of her tone.

Mr. Kocho's eyes widened. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry to ask these questions, but you see we can't allow Gohan into school unless you're able to pay for it."

"Hn."

The poor mother smiled again, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course."

"Unfortunately, that does still leave the problem of the distance. Mrs. Son, I understand you live in Mountain District 439. That _is_ a long commute; at least four hours, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr. Kocho."

He sighed, looking down at the file he had on Son Gohan. "That is outside of our school district, as you can imagine. While we are interested in Gohan, I feel practically obligated to encourage you to choose a school a bit closer to home. To make that commute every day will be difficult and my concern is that Gohan will have problems with attendance, particularly in adverse weather."

Chi-Chi sighed, giving a small shrug. "We have considered that, Mr. Kocho, but I am sure there will be no problem with Gohan's attendance."

"Mrs. Son, I have no doubt you will do your best to see to it that your son is at school every day, but you can't predict the weather and other variables that may interfere with his commute. Will you be driving him to school?"

"No, sir," Gohan cut in. "I have my driver's license. I can drive myself to school."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. By driving he surely meant flying. It was much faster than any vehicle, even the fastest that his mate's company could produce.

Mr. Kocho looked from the teenager to his mother, clearly not convinced it was a good idea to accept Gohan as a student. Vegeta rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "If the weather is poor, Gohan would stay at my residence in West City."

Chi-Chi and Gohan both turned to him, gaping. Of course they knew Gohan wouldn't need to stay at the Capsule Corporation compound even if there was a raging blizzard, but the simple fact that Vegeta made such a comment to help their cause was shocking.

Mr. Kocho didn't see their incredulous expressions as he nodded. "That is considerably closer," he conceded. "That does also give him a closer emergency contact."

"Emergency contact?" Chi-Chi asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Son. Each of our students must have someone whom we can contact in case of an accident or medical emergency while on school grounds. That is another reason the distance from your home is troubling. However, if you have someone in West City…" He looked pointedly at Vegeta, as if waiting for him to deny willingness to be said contact. Vegeta glared back at him until he averted his gaze.

The rest of the interview consisted of questions mostly directed to Chi-Chi and Gohan about his previous education, his current grade level, and their reasons for choosing Orange Star High. Vegeta grew increasingly bored until he was having a hard time hiding his agitation. Periodically he would growl just loud enough for a certain young demi-saiyan who was becoming too fidgety or whiney to hear, keeping him in line through the interview. Really he wanted to leave and return home to train, but he doubted that go over well with the principal. He seemed to be looking for any excuse he could get to deny Gohan admission into his school. Not that Vegeta cared if Gohan got in or not, but he didn't want to in any way nullify the agreement for the harpy to take his son for two weeks. At least, that was what he told himself.

Finally, nearly an hour later, Mr. Kocho pulled some papers out of the file and tapped them with his index finger. "Of course before we admit you into Orange Star you will have to pass the entrance exams. Judging by your record you should have no trouble with them. We will need to schedule a time for him to come in and take them. It should take about four hours."

"Certainly," Chi-Chi replied tiredly. "Is there time available next week?"

While they set up the appointment, Vegeta pushed away from the wall and tapped his foot impatiently. When the office started to shake he stopped, growling lowly. He was starting to feel caged in the small, stuffy room. To his relief, the Sons stood up and shook Mr. Kocho's hand before filing out of the office. Vegeta was the last to leave, pausing in the doorway. He turned back and said in a threatening tone, "If you don't admit him into this school, not only are you a fool, but I will see to it that this establishment is shut down." He left then, leaving the principal staring at him, speechless.

Gohan heard what Vegeta said to the principal and shook his head. Of course Vegeta would threaten him! He had been too nice the whole time. Now his chances of getting in were practically shot. Vegeta ignored Chi-Chi's silent thank-you as he strode out of the school and got in his car to leave the city before flying the rest of the way home.

…

Two weeks later Chi-Chi grinned and squealed with joy as she read over the letter one more time. Gohan was accepted into Orange Star High School! She was ecstatic even as she heard the telltale sounds of her home collapsing around her as two young demi-saiyans played training games. 'He's in! My Gohan is in public school! Oh, this is wonderful! Thank Kami Vegeta was there. Maybe he'll help me get Goten into school, too!'

_A/N: So I think this chapter is a little different than the others, but it was an idea I had and wanted to put into writing. So, anyway, please review!_


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